


By Sunlight

by Lilith Sedai (TAFKAB)



Series: Lake Interludes [2]
Category: Star Wars Prequel Trilogy
Genre: First Person, M/M, PWP, Qui-Gon Jinn POV
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-06-27
Updated: 2017-06-27
Packaged: 2018-11-19 08:45:25
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,217
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11309868
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TAFKAB/pseuds/Lilith%20Sedai
Summary: The Jedi Code forbids joy? Out of the question.  (An old story)





	By Sunlight

**Author's Note:**

> A PWP inspired by Ewan McGregor laughing, which he does so often and so beautifully, but which Obi-Wan never does. This is also inspired by the setting of _Nell_. Fontana Lake in the Smoky Mountains is one of the most beautiful locations on Earth.

The day's work is done, and the lake draws me. Burnished light spills over the land as the sun sinks toward the horizon, pooling in the hollows and gilding the mountains. The leaves shift and whisper, golden-green overhead, mirroring the dancing of the waters. 

Boys are swimming in the cove, playing, agricorps workers and local children, all set loose from their own duties as I am freed from mine. 

I wait, catching hold of a branch and leaning into its crook. Obi-Wan is with them, and it is his voice that stops me where I am. 

He stands upon a stone, poised to run or pounce, his head thrown back, and clear laughter emerges from him such as I have never heard. Joyful sounds spill from him like music as he dodges, dances, grapples with another boy, and tumbles into the water. Emerging, he slings droplets of molten gold from his hair.

He surges from the water up onto the stone jetty-- a golden god, shining and pure, every muscle distinct and beautiful. He is unaware of his beauty, caught up so fully in the moment that nothing else exists but joy. 

He humbles me. 

He shames me. 

He laughs. 

Flinging his compact, lean body toward the water, he laughs still, spanning the air, cutting the rippling surface, rising. Splashing with the others, he exults in his youth. He has no consciousness of himself, or of his position. He does not think of dignity befitting a Jedi. He simply is, and he is beautiful. 

I have heard him chuckle, seen him smile, but nothing like this. Never for me, not this joy, this pure happiness as radiant as the sun that burnishes his body, kissing his skin. 

If I were to step forward, breaking the cover of the forest, his laughter would cease. 

His cares would fall back onto his shoulders, and he would shroud this young, joyful satyr in Jedi reserve as he came to stand at my side, a shadow of my serenity, his living flame dimmed. It is what we have made of ourselves, together. It is a curse, an aloof distance that I do not know how to cross, a barrier erected between us from the first that I do not know how to breach, an obstacle built from fears: my fear of opening to him and his fear of my rejection. 

He falls backward into the water, limbs outstretched, smiling his bliss up at the golden sky. 

My padawan gives me all that he is-- by cutting this youthful joy out of himself, by remaking himself into a somber copy of me. In a year, two, ten, this will be gone and only tepid preferences will remain. 

Perhaps to lose serenity in happiness is to invite a fall to darkness, if such joy in him can bring such despair in me, leading me to hate myself more than I have ever hated another. 

A horn sounds, low and mellow, floating over the waters-- summoning the young ones away. They arise and go, lean and lithe, legs and bodies flashing through the woods, avoiding me as if by instinct. 

He alone remains, lowering himself to sit on the stones, facing the sun, facing me. His legs are crossed, his head tilted back, his padawan braid trailing over his shoulder. His hands fall open on his thighs. Such happiness radiates from him, even as he achieves serenity! 

My fist clenches: longing, despair. When did I last know such a beautiful feeling? My own master allowed me no moments like this free afternoon, which I vouchsafed to Obi-Wan. Master Dooku's dour mien and frozen scowl echo across the years to burden me. 

I have only stolen moments to recall, and the guilt that came with them, as I imagined his distaste and condemnation, his sour and customary disapproval, his stifling contempt. 

The decision slides through me, pure and cleansing like a lightsaber's cautery: I will no longer allow my master's legacy to poison Obi-Wan. I will no longer let it poison me with fear and shame. 

I set my jaw, and my hands rise to my belt. Belt, robe, sash, stole, tunics, leggings, boots-- the grim and stifling layers peel away, and my melancholy falls away with them. I am breathless, feeling as if I am bursting forth from a cocoon, something new and sharp and exhilarating birthed inside me as my bare feet find the mould of the forest. I leap forward, lighter of foot than I can ever recall. 

All but silent, I emerge the woods, loping toward him, and he glances up as he senses me draw near, surprised, his eyes wide and his mouth opening to speak. He rises hastily to meet me with proper decorum-- but I do not allow it. I do not give him time to withdraw into himself, I do not give myself time to second-guess. 

I scoop him into my arms and fling us from the stones into the water, and when we rise, we are both laughing, his skin seal-slick against mine, wonder dawning in his dancing eyes. 

This time, his joy is for me, and mine is for him. 

I kiss him then, under the sunlight, and it is so perfect my knees falter and I sink with him beneath the glassy cool surface of the water, twining about him even as he entangles himself with me. I can feel the sweetness of his spirit, the pure bliss he feels at knowing himself loved and accepted in his beautiful happiness. 

Rising at last, we smile anew, for joy and relief and understanding, for burial of past pains and fears. 

I would speak, but words do not come. He covers my lips with a finger, his eyes merry; he slips from me, splashing, and I pursue, giving myself over to him wholly, chasing and gasping, laughing and struggling until I catch him, until I drag him from the water onto the stones, and pull him down on top of me. 

I watch his joy catch fire, the flame of it kindling both of us as he sinks between my thighs, aligning our bodies easily, his smile as pure as the crystal of his eyes. He does not question, and he is not afraid. 

He bends to kiss me even as he surges against my flesh, the ebb and flow of him like the wavelets breaking on the shore. My hands rest behind his neck and against the curve of his back where the cradle of his pelvis dimples the sweet skin next to his spine. I hold him, butterfly-soft, as he drinks of me. The sun dazzles my sight and I close my eyes, feeling the water from his body trickle onto me, swiftly warming, as if it will steam away in the heat of this ecstasy that builds between us. 

His mouth is everything my heart has missed, the purest light of the Living Force, breaking me open and remaking me in his image, allowing the sunlight into my soul to drive away the shadows. 

I am laughing as we find release, feeling almost as exultant and young as he. I acknowledge myself the humblest student to his patient teachings, and cherish this wisdom he has taught me: 

The truest peace arises from joy.


End file.
